


Date Night

by peacehopeandrats



Series: Growing Up [8]
Category: Gargoyles (Cartoon), Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Missing Years, Monthly Rumbelling, Monthly Rumbelling May 2020, New York City, Travel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-31
Updated: 2020-05-31
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:29:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,976
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24463546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peacehopeandrats/pseuds/peacehopeandrats
Summary: Belle and Rumple have returned to New York for help with separating Rumple from the dagger. It also just so happens to be their anniversary and Rumple has something special planned.Begun for the May 2020 Monthly RumbellingNominated for Best Crossover in the 2021 TEAs.Thank you.
Relationships: Belle/Rumplestiltskin | Mr. Gold
Series: Growing Up [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1035851
Comments: 6
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was inspired for May's Monthly Rumbelling. I went with just the moodboard, which is here:  
> https://a-monthly-rumbelling.tumblr.com/post/616465758387617792/aesthetic-submission
> 
> As with a lot of my Monthly Rumbelling fics, this one will be added to as time goes on. It is actually missing Chapter 2 at the moment, as well as everything that happens after the date, but I wanted it up in time, so here it is. Should stand on its own as a Rumbelle fic for now.

Midnight in Central Park was usually a quiet time, filled with darkness and the occasional distant wail of a siren, but tonight, on what must have seemed like a whim, a flash of light broke through the evening, whirling and spitting as it churned through the air. It sliced into reality, bringing fire and flame with it, along with three out-of place forms, dressed in what passers by would assume to be medieval costume. As abruptly as it all began, the sparks ceased to fly and the light flashed away, taking the noise of fireworks and wind with it.

Standing among the evening shadows cast by a filling moon, a man, woman, and child shivered once against the mild chill of evening. As the woman pulled her outer layer tight around herself, the man reached into his cloak’s interior pocket and withdrew a small phone. 

“I’ll call ahead, let them know we’re coming,” he said.

The woman at his side chuckled. “Since when have we ever had to make the journey alone?” She teased him as she leaned in to his side and tried to rest her chin on his shoulder even while it shifted with his movements.

“It’s only polite,” he responded, just as playfully.

“Look!” The boy’s eyes, which had been drawn to the night sky from the moment of their arrival, gazed into the distance, where dark shapes were making their way to the park, drifting among the almost hidden stars. He beamed with excitement and lifted an arm to flail around in the air like someone facing death by drowning.

“Magic calls magic,” the man said with a shrug. Accepting defeat and putting his phone away. “You can go with them if you want, but I’m taking a cab.”

His wife laughed beside him and lifted herself to her toes to kiss his cheek. “Oh, Rumple,” she whispered against his skin. “We wouldn’t expect anything else.”

* * *

When Goliath, Brooklyn, and Lexington landed, Gideon barely remembered to return their bows before flinging his arms around his friend and squeezing hard. He and the Gargoyle were much closer in height now, heads almost even with each other.

“Hey, little guy,” Lexington chuckled through an umph of surprise before reaching up to ruffle Gideon’s hair. “It’s good to see you.”

“Not so little any more,” Gideon’s papa pointed out. “He’ll outgrow us all soon.”

“Well, most of us,” Brooklyn said, eying his leader, who towered above them all.

Gideon’s mother gave a little shrug as she looked the largest Gargoyle up and down. “I don’t know,” she said knowingly. “I think he might come close.”

Goliath huffed and reached out a hand to Rumplestiltskin. “It is good to see you again, my friend. We were not expecting you so soon, but you are welcome, as always.”

Gideon watched his father clasp wrists with the Gargoyle leader and forced himself to remain silent. There was so much he wanted to know, so much he wanted to tell everyone. He had seen so many things since they were away. In the end, he couldn’t contain his excitement. “How long have we been gone? Has anything happened?” He spun around to his friend again with a huge grin. “Oh, and I went gliding _by myself_!”

The diminutive Gargoyle’s eyes widened. “In a machine, or-”

Gideon shook his head. “In a different realm where all you have to do is feel happy and your feet go up off the ground.”

“Sounds more like floating,” Brooklyn teased and Gideon made a face at him.

Rumple looked up at Goliath with a sigh. “I’m afraid we return from our journey empty handed,” he said. The statement ended all excited chatter, forcing Gideon’s mouth to shut with heavy sadness. He looked at his father, studying the weight of the man’s actions as they played across his face. His papa’s heart held so much faith in the power of the bridge they visited and every realm since. Gideon knew he felt discomfort at not being able to come up with an answer to the end of his curse on his own.

“A shame,” Goliath told them all. “What can we do to help? The castle is always available to you, of course.”

“Thank you.” Gideon’s father lowered his head formally. “We might take you up on that offer, considering that we have come to seek help from someone under the employ of Xanatos.”

Brooklyn’s eyebrows raised. “Oh?”

“And who might that be?” Goliath was honestly curious. “If you don’t mind my asking.”

Eyes closing to the truth, Rumple exhaled a single word. “Owen.”

Lexington frowned at Gideon. “He means Puck, doesn’t he?”

Gideon nodded. “Yeah.”

“We have been to so many places in the past two years,” Gideon’s mother told the group. “And we’ve seen so many things, collected tidbits here, hints there, but none of it was truly helpful. We were hoping that Puck might know of a place to start our next search.”

“If it’s safe,” Gideon insisted, instinctively moving from his friend’s side to stand by his father. He placed his body just to the left of his papa’s, but kept one shoulder in front of him, wishing the choice of position could shield him from whatever was to come. “We can only ask for his help if Puck is still bound to servitude.”

“He remains bound as well as banished,” Goliath admitted with a sharp nod. “I do not believe he could harm any of you.” He looked at Rumple then. “Or use your powers for his own benefit.” 

“He’ll find a loophole if there is one to be found,” Gideon’s papa said sadly. “If there’s one thing I understand about his kind of magic, it’s the joy of working around the rules.”

The large Gargoyle’s eyebrows lowered, his eyes narrowing in concern. “Are you certain that you wish to test him?”

“I don’t know that we have a choice,” Belle admitted.

“We’ve visited a number of realms, even went to the Arcade De La Vie to try and offer the darkness away,” his father said, shoulders pulling back as she stiffened against the truth. “But we’ve had no success.”

Gideon watched his mother lean against his father, arm wrapping around him, her expression held that horrible combination of hope and disappointment that Gideon had come to realize was the acceptance of another failure. She had so much hope that they would find an answer and yet it felt as if they had already reached their last resort.

“Is there any indication that he already knows who I am?” His father’s tone was hopeful.

Goliath considered this. “Owen is a difficult man to read. He knows much more than he reveals and he reveals only what is useful to him at the time.”

At that moment a stiff breeze lifted bumps on Gideon’s skin and sent a shiver down his spine. Belle wrapped her arms tightly around herself and gave a smile. “Well, regardless of what we say to Owen, we _would_ be happy to accept your offer for shelter.”

“Of course,” Goliath said with a deep bow. “Allow us to take you to a warmer place more suitable for conversation.”

Predictably, Gideon’s father made a face. “You two go ahead… I’ll get a cab and meet you there.” 

Gideon nudged him. “You almost flew once, Papa. They won’t drop you.” He knew his father would reject every offer of flight that was possible, but he would never give up trying to convince him that it was a fun way to see the city.

“I _have_ flown once,” his father reminded him. “When I came here to find your brother.”

Brooklyn huffed. “We aren’t airplanes, you know.” The remark was short and would have seemed angry if it weren’t for the smile spreading over the Gargoyle’s long face.

“That’s half the problem,” Rumple told him.

“What’s the other half?” Brooklyn unfolded his wings, spreading them to strike a pose of strength. His solid form was tense, the muscles well defined. “Afraid we would drop you?”

“No,” Gideon chuckled. “He thinks he’ll be up in the air.”

“Why don’t you four go ahead.” His mother reached out to hug him and nodded him in the direction of Lexington and the others. “Your father and I will meet you at the Eyrie building.”

“You’re certain you don’t want an escort to the edge of the park?” Goliath stepped forward, gesturing with an arm across his chest in casual formality. “I wouldn’t mind walking with you.”

“Really?” Brooklyn laughed. “When was the last time you and Elisa wanted someone tagging along behind you on a night like this?”

Gideon started to snicker, but covered his mouth with his hand, pretending to cough instead. It wasn’t polite to laugh at one’s friends, even if they were laughing at themselves, but he always found a flustered, love-struck Goliath as amusing as he found his father in the same situation. Really, other than their height and size and, well, everything, the two were a lot more alike than people thought. He saw it though. Especially when Goliath and Elisa were spending time with his parents.

“We’ll be fine,” his father assured Goliath. “But if you feel the need to…” He pointed skyward and drew circles in the air. 

“Yes,” Goliath agreed quickly before turning to his fellow clan members. “I will guard the park for just a while longer and then join you back at the castle.” He looked at Lexington, eyebrow raised. “And try not to drop the boy.”

Brooklyn nodded sharply, Lexington laughed, and Gideon grinned, practically flinging himself into the smaller Gargoyle’s awaiting arms before realizing their similar stature. “You um…” He wondered how to approach the subject of being carried now that he was older. There had never been any question before, but now it seemed wrong to simply expect the Gargoyle to hold his weight.

“I can take you,” Lexington said easily.

“Though now that you’re older, you might need to fall in with modern tradition,” Brooklyn added as they stepped away from Gideon’s parents and wandered down the path to the nearest building.

Gideon blinked, surprised that there was a part of Gargoyle culture that he was ignorant of. “What’s that?” He looked from one to the other, desperate to soak up whatever he could. As his family traveled from realm to realm, Gideon was finding that culture was something he was developing an interest in.

“Well…” Lexington said as they reached the structure’s brick wall and stretched to his full height to dig his talons in to the mortar. He paused and scratched his head with his free hand before giving a shrug. “You just sort of… stand around, I guess, and see who takes you.”

“Right,” Gideon said, nodding seriously. “Sorry.” He looked over at the reddish figure to his side and gave his own shrug. “I don’t mind Brooklyn taking me.”

“I think I can manage.” His friend turned back to the building, displaying his back to Gideon. “Hold on,” he offered.

Gideon wrapped his arms tightly around the Gargoyle’s neck and let himself hang as Lexington climbed the wall. It was hard not to think of falling at first, but he knew that once they jumped from the roof, the Gargoyles would spread their wings to catch a draft that would carry them skyward. In the air, their bodies would stretch out and drift as the currents dictated, so that riding this way would be just like lying down on a magic carpet. 

Of course, it turned out to be a lumpy magic carpet, but that didn’t bother him, in fact, as they caught an updraft and climbed into the night sky, Gideon found he enjoyed the sensation of having strong muscle beneath him. It made him feel safe and protected, if maybe a little strange. The bunch and pull of muscle seemed to call to his own body in a way he’d never experienced before, making him light headed. Still, travel this way was more secure than when he had been small enough to be carried in a Gargoyle’s strong talons, body dangling in empty air over the concrete below.

Gliding this way also made conversation easier. All Lexington had to do was talk into the wind and the words were whisked back to Gideon. “How long are you going to be here?”

Gideon easily spoke to the Gargoyle’s ear. “I don’t know. I think a while. It’s my parents’ anniversary,” he called out against the woosh of their flight. “And I’m going to need your help with something.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are actually missing Chapter 2, in which the Golds get settled in to the castle and talk with Xanatos and the others, then spend a day or two in the city itself. They didn't just drop in to have their big day and then rush out again. I will put Chapter 2 in when I have the time to properly turn it from notes into something you can actually read.

Gideon flopped onto the bed in his father’s room, letting the mattress bounce him a few times before his momentum slowed then stopped all together. From where he sat he could see mostly his father’s back, but if his eyes drifted to the full length mirror, he could take in both sides of his father at once. The man seemed too concerned with his own appearance to even notice his boy’s presence behind him or the cheeky grin that peeked out from behind his reflection. His papa was fussing with the sleeves of his shirt, tugging the cuffs and judging them to be lacking. He hissed in frustration and started unbuttoning the front and only then did his eyes catch Gideon’s in the mirror.

“Snuck up on me, son.” He gave a warm smile as his fingers worked, then frowned as he read Gideon’s face. “What’s wrong?”

Now half undressed, Rumple turned to Gideon and he shrugged. “Nothing’s wrong, really,” he answered. “Just wondered why you and Mother are getting ready in separate rooms.”

“Because we thought it would be fun to surprise each other,” his papa told him. “It’s a special night, after all. Anniversaries only happen once a year.” His papa ruffled his hair before returning to the mirror and shrugging in to his newly chosen shirt. He buttoned it and tugged the sleeves again, shifting his body from one side to the other while he stared at his reflection. “Which do you think?”

Gideon looked at the pile of shirts quickly growing on the dresser at his father’s side. “Between the ones you were wearing since I came in here, or between that one and everything you didn’t like already?”

Rumplestiltskin chuckled. “Funny,” he said, mixing his amusement with a sigh. “I wanted to try and imitate what I wore for our wedding, but there just isn’t a shirt the right color, so I thought maybe something familiar…”

“If this is so important, why doesn’t it have its own colors?” Gideon stood and came to his father’s side, lifting each shirt and putting it down again. “I think it should.” He sorted out all of the lightest possible colors, then frowned. “You don’t have a white one.”

His father snorted. “When was the last time you saw me wear anything white?”

He opened the drawers and closed them again, rifling through all of his father’s clothes. “You asked me. Don’t you trust me?”

There was a sigh and Gideon looked up to see his father roll his head. “I did buy _one_ ,” he admitted finally. “Bottom drawer.”

Gideon’s eyes widened. “You mean all of these drawers are filled with _new_ shirts?”

His papa huffed. “Not all of them.” They both chuckled at that.

Holding up the shirt in question, Gideon nodded. “This one.”

“This is going to look very formal,” Rumple protested, though he took it and put it on. He made a face right away and almost removed it, but Gideon reached out a hand to stop him.

“Just _try_ , Papa.” Gideon begged. “For me?”

His father melted at that, lip threatening to quiver the way it always did when Gideon pressed him in just that way. “All right, son.” Rumple told him. “For you.”

“Besides,” Gideon said as he reached for his papa’s buttons and worked each in turn, “you _always_ look formal.”

Though Gideon wasn’t looking directly into the man’s face, he could sense the surprise at the loving gesture and even feel the moisture pooling in his father’s eyes. Words didn’t come for a while, but when they did they were _almost_ level. “I didn’t always. I suppose that’s why it is so important to me now.”

Gideon finished with the final button and nodded sharply in approval, then reached for his father’s suit jacket. “Here.” He went back to sit on the bed, then stopped. “Why?”

“Hm?” His papa turned to face him again, probably to keep from seeing the unfamiliar white color against his skin. 

“Why is it so important? What’s wrong with being…” He shrugged. “I don’t know. I mean plenty of people wear jeans and stuff.”

“When I was your age I had very little.”

Gideon felt his eyes widen, not at the news, but in excitement. He loved to hear stories of his mother and father from times before he was alive. He leaned forward on the bed, silent and eager for the rest.

His father smiled. “I don’t have time now, Gideon, but I’ll tell you some day.” 

“Do we have time for the short story?” Gideon tried not to beg.

“The short story,” Rumple told him as he adjusted the way the jacket fell on his shoulders, “is that once I had magic, I gave myself fine things to make up for an empty heart.”

“Even with Mother? Even now?” He started to worry, mind racing through all of the reasons that things would fill his father’s heart instead of his mother’s love. 

Rumple reached out to pat his son’s shoulder. “You and your mother fill up my whole heart,” he promised. “But we can talk more about this later.” He turned to look at the mirror now, brows raising in surprise.

Gideon leaned to the side to try and see his father’s whole body from his new position on the bed. “Is something wrong?”

“No.” The word was a whisper, floating from his father’s lips as the man tugged on the front of his jacket. He pulled it closed and fastened the buttons, then simply froze in place, unable to look away from what stared back at him. “I… think you might be right.”

“Told you,” Gideon beamed. He stood up and headed for the door.

* * *

Belle pulled the zipper of dress number five up along her spine and stepped back with a frown. The blue was exactly the color Rumple liked on her, but the style itself looked hideous. Swirls of blue spiraled down toward her knees like tentacles reaching for her feet. She groaned at her reflection and stomped her bare foot in protest. “It looked so _good_ on the hanger.”

“I think you look beautiful,” Gideon piped up from behind her. “But I’m supposed to think that, so I guess my word doesn’t count.”

She turned to smile at him. “Of course your opinion counts, Gideon.” Her arms lifted and fell to her sides as she turned back to judge the dress a final time. “I look like an octopus.”

In the mirror, Gideon’s eyes widened. “Yeah,” he admitted flatly. “Now I see it.”

“Thank you,” Belle said, giving him a little bow. She padded to the chair where a few more choices lay, draped over the back, waiting for consideration. She picked up the top two, one a deep forest green that hung off the shoulder, the other was black and fastened at the neck. The green dress was soft, warm and simple in its elegance, while the black one had a decorated bodice, the pattern light and airy like expensive lace. Aside from the tiny crystals that accented some of the thinner lines, it reminded her of something she used to wear in Storybrooke, if quite a bit more formal.

“That one,” Gideon insisted quickly, finger pointing at the dark fabric.

Belle chuckled at him. “If we were going to a summer ball, maybe,” she told him. “I think I’d get a chill at this time of year and it’s maybe too fancy for what your father has in mind.”

“No, I think it’s perfect.” Gideon went through her things, searching until he pulled out a sweater that she already owned. It was black, with three quarter sleeves and once he held it up, she realized it might just go well with the item in question. “Wear this with it.”

She tipped her head to the side, biting her lip as she thought about the possibilities, then held out the black dress so that her eyes could take in the two items side by side, just for good measure. Not quite willing to admit that her son had decent fashion sense for a boy of eleven years, Belle glanced at the dressing screen, then back again, weighing her options.

“Papa would love it,” Gideon teased, eyes sparkling.

Belle rolled her eyes and took the sweater from his hands. “I’ll _try_ it,” she huffed as she crossed the room for the privacy of the corner behind the dressing screen. In a quick motion she unzipped the octopus dress she was wearing and pushed it to the ground. She didn’t bother to pick it up, simply stepped in to the new one and pulled it up her body. The clasp was a little tricky, so she held the bodice to her neck as she looked down at her form, the solid black cloth drifting just below her knee in elegant folds led up to the beginnings of the swirling white lines at her waist that climbed over her curves and would eventually reach around her neck. The black poked through every tiny hole in the intricate white pattern and the gems caught the light, casting tiny rainbows in the eye.

A sigh escaped her as she realized her son was right and she bent to pick up the rejected dress from the floor. “All right,” she huffed as she came around into the room again. “I admit, I like the way this looks.” She tossed the blue one to the discard pile and turned her back to Gideon. “Can you help me fasten it?”

Her son stood and hurried to her, careful hands brushing her long hair from her neck. “Sure,” he beamed. There was a fumbling at her spine and then she felt the cloth settle. “There.”

Belle’s hands left her chest and reached around to adjust the way her hair fell on her shoulders, making certain to set it just as it would be when they were out tonight. Only once that was done did she dare to look up in the mirror and her heart stopped.

The look was a little more formal than they had originally been aiming for, but it certainly wouldn’t be out of place against any of Rumple’s suits and the fit was perfect.

“You look beautiful,” Gideon told her. “Even if it isn’t blue.”

She turned a scowl at him. “I can’t help it that your father likes the way blue brings out my eyes.”

“He likes the dark greens too,” Gideon told her. His wicked smile giving away the fact that this might just have been mentioned in confidence, though whether Rumple had confided in him or Gideon was admitting something he’d simply noticed about his father wasn’t as obvious as the secret itself.

“I’ll have to remember that,” she told him, thinking back to the days in the enchanted forest when they were trying to release Merlin and she had worn that long, rich green dress. She wished she could call that back with a simple snap of her fingers.

Gideon held up the sweater, shaking it once to get her attention. “Here,” he said as he presented it.

Belle put one arm in, then the other and pulled it around herself as her son backed away. She turned and twisted in front of the mirror, judging the ensemble with a critical eye. She wouldn’t be able to button the sweater without making a strange lumpy border just at the base of it, where the white lace pattern drifted just below the waistline, but with it open, the outfit was complete.

“So?” Gideon came into view behind her, his reversed image grinning like a fool. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s perfect,” Belle whispered. She turned to place her hands on his shoulders and drew him close. “Thank you.” Her head lowered to kiss the top of his, but she realized with a sinking heart that she wouldn’t be doing that for much longer.

“Papa’s going to love it,” he insisted. “If you get to keep it on all night.”

She felt her eyes go wide and her face flush red. “Gideon! You are _far/i > too young to be making comments like that!” Though she objected verbally, her laughter contradicted the scolding. Since his interruption of their love making several years ago, she and Rumple had agreed to be open and honest about love, romance, and sexuality in whatever way was appropriate for their son’s age. He _had_ already caught them in the act, after all, and since he assumed Rumple was beating her, some education had been necessary._

_Rumple had been less concerned with it than Belle since he was used to life in single room hovels. When she had objected to his willingness to be honest with their son, he had explained how life had been married to Milah, with Baelfire tucked away in the corner of their home. Things were seen, things were heard, and sometimes things had to be explained as appropriate. Her objections had lasted only as long as it took for Rumple to begin talking with Gideon and from that moment on she couldn’t see any other way for their lives to be. Their boy had absorbed every word, taken the lesson as one emotional connection rather than pure physical pleasure and his personality had soften to the two of them as a result of it, if such a thing were even possible. Gideon was always so full of love and understanding that it seemed like a form of insanity to believe he could possibly hold _more_ of those elements inside of himself, but he had. He still did, and they seemed to grow whenever he saw the two of them together._

_Her son joined her in amusement, his chuckle matching hers. “And I wasn’t too young to beat him for loving you that afternoon?”_

_“Well, you were _innocent_ then.” Belle fumbled for the words that she actually wanted to use, but fell short and simply shrugged._

_“And a few years of _knowing_ what taking a nap really was didn’t do _anything_ to make me older.” Her son folded his arms over his chest, but kept a grin on his face._

_In that moment she could see him, see him as the man he had once been, tall and strong, stubborn as anything, eyes sparkling with love even as he fought the hate the Black Fairy had planted inside of him. Now that he was nearing his teens and filling out into the man she remembered he would be, it was so easy to see him at that age again, just more alive, heart as light as a feather, smile bright enough to blind with its radiance, eyes gleaming with pure, unfiltered joy. She felt her own eyes water and reached up to dab at the unshed tears._

_“You’re becoming a man,” she admitted at last. “I don’t think we can deny that any more.”_

_Gideon shrugged. “I have a few years, maybe.” He looked around the room, then waved a hand at the piles of clothing. “You want me to help you with this while you finish getting ready?”_

_“That would be great,” Belle told him as she hurried to the room’s vanity. “I still have to do my makeup and find something to do with this hair.”_

_“Papa will be happy if you leave it down,” Gideon told her as he carefully lifted one dress at a time and draped each over the other across his arm. “And then, if you ever have to take the sweater off, he can brush if off your shoulder. He likes that, too.”_

_Belle glared at him through the silvered glass and poked a hairbrush at his reflection. “We created a monster in you,” she scolded playfully._

_He froze at that, concern washing over his face. For a moment Belle could see the old, tormented Gideon and she spun in her chair to face him. “Gideon? What’s wrong?”_

_Her son shrugged. “Is it wrong that I feel so happy when I see that you love each other?”_

_“Of course not!” She stood and went over to him, drawing his body against her own in a tight embrace, ignoring the press of the clothing bundle between them. “Why ever would you think that?”_

_“I just… People we’ve met… kids my age… They don’t seem to care that much.” She opened her mouth, but he shook his head before she could protest against his observations. “Sure, they all _want_ their parents to be happy, but it doesn’t mean much more to them than that.”_

_“And how does it make _you_ feel?” She released him enough that she could stand at arm’s length and gaze into his eyes._

_“I don’t know that I can really explain it,” he said honestly, brow knitting in concentration as he thought out his answer. “I feel light. I mean, filled with actual light, like part of the sun might burst out of me. It’s warm and I know that if I never had anything else, knowing how true your love is would keep me alive and happy forever, even if I was always alone.”_

_Belle frowned and gave him a mock scolding. “Well, it isn’t going to come to that,” she scoffed. “You’ll find someone, I’m sure of it. Though it’s maybe a little early to be thinking about your finding someone right _now_.”_

_“Just like it’s a little early to wonder if your dress stays on?” The sparkle of mischief returned to his eyes in a single blink and Belle reveled in it, glad that he had never known the pains of his other life. Torture, sadness, the loss of Roderick, whom both she and Rumple suspected could have been much more than just Gideon’s friend, all of those things were wiped away, never to be a part of him again._

_Belle smiled and tapped his nose. “I think that instead of continuing this conversation, you need to be telling your father that I’m almost ready.”_

_“Okay,” he said easily, taking the last of her dresses. “I’ll put these away, too.”_

_“Thank you,” Belle told him again and watched him leave, head trying to take in everything Gideon had said even as her heart twitched sadly at his disappearance. Their son had been returned from the Black Fairy’s clutches when none of the others had been granted such a gift. Whatever had caused that blessing to be granted to them deserved every praise and thought of thanks that she could give._

_* * *_

_Gideon dropped onto his bed in the giant stone room of the castle, tired but happy. He hadn’t really _done_ anything taxing, but trying to make sure every part of his plan would go perfectly was a huge drain to his nerves. Sunlight caught in the glass of the window panes, sending rainbows around the room and he watched them crawl upwards with eager anticipation. A setting sun meant the Gargoyles would wake up soon and once they were awake the plan would begin. He closed his eyes after a while, breaths slowing as he thought about his mother and father, dressed to perfectly match each other, sharing the love that had made their family his home. They would eat, they would go dancing, and they would come back to find his gift set centrally on their bed. Unless they were utterly ridiculous and insisted on continuing this “date” through the night, his father dropping his mother off at her door and kissing her goodnight._

_As time passed the image became clearer in his mind and Gideon began to worry. He replayed the scenario in his head, his parents climbing the castle stairs, strolling down the hallway, his mother’s arm draped over his father’s. Their eyes would meet, his mother would blush and either tuck hair behind her ear or bite her lip, and his father would get that look in his eyes that was more like a hungry growl than an actual facial expression._

_“I had a lovely evening,” his mother would say._

_“As did I,” his papa would answer, stepping closer. His father’s body would move into his mother’s space and she wouldn’t back away. In fact, she would glance down at him, then tip her eyes upwards, letting them sparkle._

_His father loved that look she gave him, it always made him want to hold her, but on a date he couldn’t act like he would at home. There were proper ways to court a lady and crushing her against the cold wall of a castle wasn’t anywhere near gentlemanly. He would express his interest while suggesting he wasn’t interested at all._

_“However, as much as I enjoyed the evening, I suppose we should part ways.”_

__No, don’t part ways, don’t part ways,_ Gideon muttered in his head, watching the two as if hiding behind a tapestry down the corridor. _Go to your own room!__

_“Hey, Gideon!”_

_Gideon waved a hand behind himself at Lexington’s familiar voice. “Sssh. I’ve got to make sure they make it to their room.” His harsh whisper sounded strange to his own ears._

_The sound of tapping on stone came closer as the Gargoyle’s talons touched the hard surface in fits and starts, marking the special little leaps that a creature of his stature makes naturally at a run, canine strides with a rabbit-like hop. His run so familiar that Gideon could see the movements, even when they happened behind his head._

_A hand shook his shoulder. “Hey.”_

_Suddenly, Gideon wasn’t looking at his parents any more, he was looking at the bare wall. He blinked and sat up, the room almost dark._

_Lexington beamed at him. “You fell asleep.”_

_“Must have.” Gideon shook his head to clear it and scrubbed confusion from his eyes. “I was thinking about our plan,” he admitted, then felt his eyes widen in worry. “Did you get a camera?”_

_The Gargoyle held up a small, black pouch. “Sure did.”_

_He felt himself drop back to the mattress with relief before rolling to the edge and flinging his feet to the floor. “What about getting it printed?”_

_“We can do that anywhere.” Lexington gave a shrug. “I can print here, if you want.”_

_Gideon shook his head as he stood and adjusted his clothing. “I think I want it done in a shop. We can get the frame to match it at the same time.”_

_“That works for me,” Lexington told him. “Do you know where they’re going?”_

_“Rockefeller Center?” Gideon shrugged, not at all certain that he had the area right. He still wasn’t certain about where things were in New York, or what names buildings or locations went by. “Someplace called the Rainbow Room.” He’d managed to pry that information out of his father in the span of several conversations and a few overhead telephone calls. It hadn’t been easy._

_Lexington’s already round eyes widened to the size of saucers. “Wow…” The sound seemed to be all that the Gargoyle could manage, shock immobilizing him otherwise._

_“What?” Gideon turned to him and frowned. The name seemed too cheesy for him. When he heard it images of unicorns and pixie dust had come straight to his head along with gaudily painted, human-sized flowers and mushrooms. His mind refused to release the image of a childish place and along the same vein wouldn’t let any other possibility in._

_The Gargoyle blinked and finally moved, closing the distance between them as he smiled. “That place has been around forever. And it’s beautiful.”_

_“I’ll take your word for it,” Gideon huffed._

_“You’ll see,” Lexington insisted, placing his hands on Gideon’s arms as he smiled at him. “Are you ready to go?”_

_“I think so,” Gideon checked his pockets for the money he had secretly squirreled away for the last year, skimming some here and there from times that his parents had happily handed him something meant to be used as a special treat. “Think fifty is enough?”_

_Lexington chuckled. “That’s more than enough. I’m your transportation, remember.” He clapped Gideon on the back walked to the door, gesturing at the hallway._

_“Sure, but I don’t know how much a photograph is. Or the frame that goes around it.” Gideon followed him into the hallway as he spoke, shutting his bedroom door as they left._

_“Unless you want something enormous, you’ve got plenty,” the Gargoyle promised._

_Gideon shook his head as they walked. “Papa wouldn’t want enormous. He likes little things. Simple stuff.”_

_“No offense, but he doesn’t _seem_ like someone who would,” Lexington offered. “I’ve always thought he wanted the biggest and the best of everything.”_

_“I don’t think he used to. I think he had a completely different life before he met my mother. Or maybe two, the one we know about and one that came a long time before he ever knew my mother.”_

_Lexington nodded. True, he wasn’t always the Dark One, I guess.”_

_Gideon’s feet froze as if the stone beneath them had reached up to grasp his ankles. Heat rose to his face and his eyes narrowed. All of the struggles, all of their attempts to rid his father of the darkness rose to the surface in the form of anger and resentment whenever that title was spoken. He had seen what people meant by it, had seen the hate in their eyes, their judgments made before they’d even met him. He wanted nothing more than to rid his father of that pain and suffering and after two years of searching for answers, they had finally resorted to calling on the help of Puck and his connections in Avalon because every other option had failed. Even with _his_ help they weren’t any closer to finding a way to rid his papa of the weight that pressed down on him. _

_Fists clenched at his sides as Gideon fought with the truth of their travels. Why was it _his_ father who had to suffer? His papa was the best man Gideon had ever known. He was a Savior, he was good and kind and his heart filled with love so much that it constantly overflowed. They shouldn’t _have_ to be scouring the realms for answers. And why wasn’t the kiss of true love working? His parents loved each other to the depths of their very souls. It wasn’t _fair_._

_It took a few strides for his friend to realize he’d been left on his own and when he turned, his playful smile converted to something worried. “Gideon?”_

_“We _don’t_ call him that,” Gideon growled as his jaw set against the words. “He’s just my papa.”_

_“Unless your father has found a release from his curse, the title remains, Lad.” A gravely brogue reminded him from around the corner. “Even if _you_ don’t use it.”_

_Gideon looked up at Hudson, then lowered his head, anger forgotten in the presence of the wise, old Gargoyle. “I’m sorry, I-”_

_“We understand,” Lexington turned back and grasped Gideon’s shoulder to make him meet his eyes. “People think we’re monsters too.”_

_“Yeah.” Gideon gave him a look filled with false amusement. “The difference is you _aren’t._ And my father, he-”_

_Hudson continued forward and pointed an accusatory finger at him. “Your mother wouldna have you speak like that, child. You know that.”_

_Gideon felt tears come to his eyes. “I’m sorry… It’s just, we’ve been working so hard, trying to find a way for him to be rid of it and I don’t understand. They love each other _so_ much.” He looked up into Hudson’s sad face and pleaded for him to have the answers. “Why doesn’t _anything_ work? Not even true love?”_

_“I don’t know,” Hudson told him gently. “But if anyone can work it out, it’ll be you.” His hand patted Gideon’s shoulder in a gentle warrior’s thump that held strength and determination within it. “You read books, you study hard, and you have plenty of help around you. Why, I heard Owen was released from his obligations just this evening so that he can try some magical cures as Puck. Perhaps it will only take the two of you to solve the problem.”_

_His father wasn’t going to like the news that Puck was actually himself again. “Probably a good thing that my parents are going out tonight.”_

_“Aye, lad. I believe that’s why this particular night was chosen.” There was amusement in the old Gargoyle’s voice. “Now, if you wanted to see them off, you’d better hurry. I believe they are on their way out as we speak.”_

_Gideon smiled and hugged first Hudson, then Lexington, squeezing against the muscled forms that were so hard they were almost as solid as stone. “I’d better hurry, then,” he told them before dashing to the elevator and pressing the button that would take him down below the castle and into the arms of his departing parents._


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter jumps back in time a little bit and begins BEFORE Lexington goes to wake Gideon up.

Modern shoes were incredibly noisy things when combined with ancient stone buildings. Rumplestiltskin realized this as he paced the courtyard of Castle Wyvern, nervously measuring elapsed time in rapid steps. It wasn’t the actual passage of minutes that bothered him, their reservation could last the entire evening if they wanted it to, waiting for Belle tonight was all about expectation and the unknown, which was making him extremely nervous.

A swish of air sounded behind him before he heard the scrape of talons and the familiar flap of folding wings. He didn’t look at the newcomers right away, but glanced up at the tower that he knew held his wife’s window. “Evening, gentlemen.” He heard lighter footfalls and twisted slightly sideways and put a hand to his chest, bending at the waist. “Ladies.”

“Anyone would think this was your first night courting.” Goliath’s rich chuckle filled Rumple’s senses before a large hand rested on his shoulder to steady him. “She will arrive. I have no doubt about that.”

Rumple shook his head, mouth making a worried line. Belle was never one who cared about being treated as he’d always wanted to treat her. Every moment of extravagance had come with a price in their relationship, had cost them hours, days, or months. Grand gestures traditionally led to disagreements, either directly or indirectly, and he was just waiting for this one to crumble down around him and turn to dust at his feet. “Before you knew us our lives were very different,” he told the Gargoyle. “I was a man of grand gestures and that was not a part of our lives that she looks back on fondly.”

Hudson chuckled at him. “Surely grand gestures made of love are only the best kind.”

“You’d think so-” The word caught in Rumple’s throat as he noticed movement in the doorway ahead of him. The shape that emerged was dark at first, but not unfamiliar. Long, wavy hair fell against light skin and cascaded over shoulders and back that were covered in soft, black fabric. Belle wasn’t wearing gold or blue tonight, but the dress she had chosen was absolute perfection. The it fell just at her knees in pleats of dark, silky fabric and gauze while the bodice was adorned with patterns of white lace and hidden gemstones that glinted when they caught the light. The design reached around her neck and he imagined sweeping her hair aside to help with the fastening later in the evening, the tips of his fingers barely touching her skin as he worked the clasp free. She wore a sweater for warmth, but it also teased of what beauty he would find beneath if. In his mind he saw his own fingertips sliding down her bare arms once she allowed him to help her remove it, perhaps draping it over their chair after a long period of dancing.

His wife walked toward him as if she were a creature from a dream, skin glowing in the moonlight. A breeze lifted the edges of her hair and teased them gently before setting them down again, but the movement seemed to take years instead of a single breath. The tall heels of Belle’s black shoes tapped out a rhythm that felt as if it met his own heart, driving it to beat as she moved closer. Tap. Thump. Tap. Thump. Everything moved like a video played at the slowest setting and Rumple reveled in it. If the vision before him had been drifting on the ocean’s surface, he would happily drown to take it all in forever.

Belle’s lip tucked into her teeth and her head bent to the side, just as it had so many times before, though now one of the streaks of gray fell forward, reminding him of their years spent together since Gideon’s return. “Rumple?”

He felt a nudge as Goliath released his shoulder. “Go, my friend. Enjoy your evening.” With a flourish to Belle, the Gargoyle was gone, leaving the two alone under the stars, at the very top of New York.

“I-” Rumple glanced around, realizing the Gargoyles he had greeted only moments ago were nowhere in sight, each having departed for their own destinations. He wondered how and when they had left him so alone, but was glad of the solitude all the same. “You… you look more beautiful than I could have imagined…” Swallowing hard against his struggle with language, he reached out a hand for her to take. 

“I never pictured you in a _white_ shirt,” she said softly, her eyes lingering on his body, running over the new fabric as he hoped her hands would do in hours to come.

A small shrug was all he could manage before his hand was at her hair, brushing where it caressed her cheek, jealous of the contact and wanting to replace it with his own soft touch. Belle leaned against his hand a little, eyes half closed. When he finally found words they were soft. “How is it possible that you can be more beautiful every day?”

Belle’s eyes twinkled. “Don’t get carried away,” she told him as she nudged her shoulder to his, something she had done in their own castle, so many years before. “I think we had plans, Mister Gold?”

“That we did, Missus Gold,” he said as he offered her his arm. “Dinner first, and dancing?”

“Sounds wonderful,” Belle breathed, eyes fixed on his.

They crossed the courtyard and entered the main part of the castle, matching strides, matching breaths. Rumple wanted to press his hand to his chest only to check that his heart was still beating. He felt nothing beyond his love for the woman beside him and saw nothing but but her smile and the blue of her eyes. She was the one who noticed the elevator’s arrival, though only once the doors were closing, and hurtled forward to catch it before they shut again.

Rumple muttered an apology and thought he said something about old habits, but he wasn’t at all sure. His mind was too focused on Belle to concentrate on much of anything else. Once they entered and the doors closed, she turned to him and took both of his hands in her own before he could press the button for the lower floor. “Rumple, don’t worry. Whatever you have planned for this evening, I’m sure I will love it.”

“Worry?” He swallowed hard again, hoping she wouldn’t notice, though he knew the moment that she did. “Whatever should I worry about?”

Belle tipped her head at him. “That you’ve done something so much like we might have in Storybrooke that it would scare me away,” she said frankly. Her lips curled up in a smile as she reached up to adjust the knot of his tie. “Stop fretting. All right? I love you and I’m sure that whatever you have planned for this evening will be wonderful.”

After a nod and a weak smile, Rumple felt his hands released, experienced the cold emptiness of their abandonment, then reached to press the button that would take them to the lobby.

As soon as the doors opened, someone went skidding past, overshooting the lift and then scrambled backwards. Gideon met them when they exited, trying not to pant from his exertions. His eyes were wide and mouth open so wide that his jaw all but sat on his chest. “Mother… Papa… You both… Wow.”

“Well, thank you,” Belle blushed. “But it wasn’t all _our_ doing, was it?”

Gideon tipped his head. “Mostly it was,” he said with a shrug. He stood, staring at them for a minute or more before stepping away. “I’m sorry, I… I just wanted to say goodnight to you, and wish you a happy anniversary.”

Rumple stepped up to him and wrapped his son into a tight embrace. “Thank you, son.” He wanted to tell Gideon so much, wished that he could confess that without him in their lives there would most likely have been no anniversary, no second chance, or tenth chance, but it wasn’t the time. Some day, he decided, some day he would make this and so many other confessions. He was finished with secrets, they were a part of him long forgotten.

He thought about Hudson’s words and shook his head a little as he released Gideon and stepped back for Belle to say her own goodbyes. Perhaps one or two secrets were worth keeping, but secrets of the heart.

* * *

The car Rumple hired was a sleek, black thing, driven by a man in a perfect suit with perfect manners. He easily cruised along the streets of New York, providing the smoothest, quietest ride that Belle had ever experienced. Settled against her husband’s side, she watched as building after building passed her window, taking in the change in structure and lighting in each. Some had elaborate window designs, some were simple and small, a door tucked into stone or metal, mysterious and secret.

He had obviously paid the driver to give them a grand tour of the city, because they looped around and doubled back in some places, giving Belle a chance to see each side of the road and take in perfectly framed sights. Eventually the car stopped just outside of a store with a playful window design, the letters “F.A.O. Schwarz” printed above. Belle let out a chuckle when the driver exited and turned a quirked eyebrow to her husband. “Decided to go shopping for Gideon first?”

“Hm?” Rumple blinked at her as if trying to focus his mind and she almost rolled her eyes.

Gesturing out the car’s window, she rephrased her question. “We may be from another realm, but I _know_ that’s a toy store, Rumple.”

He chuckled as the door opened and the driver’s hand reached in to help her out. “Oh, we aren’t going there,” he said lightly, exiting once she had stepped away. He shook the driver’s hand and passed something between them in the grip. “I’ll call,” he told man, who nodded and moved away.

“So where are we going?” Belle turned to study each of the buildings, mostly stores except for the for NBC Studio sign that glistened above them in blue and red. Several stories above the glowing letters she saw figures carved into the stone of the building, they seemed naked and perhaps were dancing, but she couldn’t be sure from their angle. 

Working out their destination had become a game between them, one she suspected Rumple enjoyed watching as much as she enjoyed playing. She nodded at the marquis just above them. “The observation deck?”

Rumple lifted one shoulder. “Something like that.” He gestured at the golden doors beneath and guided her toward them, opening one for her. They were greeted by yet another man in a suit, who stood like a statue, eyes looking above them rather than at them. “Good evening,” Rumple said. “We have a reservation.”

“Mister Gold?”

He nodded.

“This way, please,” the suited man told them as he took them through the building to an elevator, which he called for them. The doors opened immediately and he reached in to press a single button. “There you go, sir. And happy anniversary.”

“Thank you,” Rumple said warmly as he pressed a folded bill into the man’s palm.

Belle waited until the doors closed before she narrowed her eyes at Rumple. “Rumplestiltskin,” she teased. “What don’t I know about this place we are going to?”

He shrugged again and gave her a gentle smile. “The Rainbow Room,” he told her in in that tone he used when he was trying to hide a plan behind simple facts. “It was built in the 1930s and meant for the city’s elite. One of the highest restaurants in the city and I’m told it has an excellent view.”

When the elevator doors opened, they were greeted by yet another man who gestured away from where they stood. “Mister Gold. Missus Gold. Happy anniversary to you both. If you would please come this way, I will bring you to your table.”

“Thank you,” Rumple said again as he offered Belle his arm.

Belle could hear the delicate notes from a piano as they walked forward, but none of the usual restaurant chatter. Without meaning to, she paused, making Rumple stop half a stride ahead of her. He turned a concerned look to her, eyes beginning to hold that worry within them that made her want to hold him close for days. “Rumple…”

His lip quivered once before he caught it. “Belle, sweetheart… Please.” His hands moved to gently grip her shoulders as his terrified eyes met hers. “It’s our anniversary. I _had_ to do something special, something _fitting_ , something you deserved. I know you’ll think that means I might be reverting back to the man-”

“No,” Belle whispered as she lifted a finger to his lips, pressing it there to stop his rambling. “I couldn’t _ever_ see you that way. Not any more. You were always a good man, but now… you’re an even better one. Whatever plan you have for us this evening, I know it was made out of _love_. I only wanted to tell you I loved you _before_ I saw whatever you arranged for us. I didn’t want you to think I said it because of what you’d done.”

Rumple nodded once, his mouth moving into a thin smile before he offered his arm to her again. “I love you too,” he answered softly. “More than anything.”

As they stepped forward, Belle felt her eyes go wide. The room ahead of them was filled with windows that began at the floor and stretched to the two story ceiling. White walls and a light gray interior were lit by the palest blue lights she had ever seen. The room looked like a crystal, even without the chandelier that hung over the round, wooden dance floor. The windows glinted, their edges glowing a darker blue at the edges than the powder blue circle above their heads and in every direction beyond them she could see the lights of the city below.

The piano was situated on a platform that caressed one edge of the dance floor and tables spread themselves outward on either side, surrounding the open space. They were spread with blue cloths and golden candles that were surrounded by glass columns that captured the dancing flames, duplicating them in their clear, rounded surfaces. The room was spectacular in every way, but there was one oddity. Only a single table had place settings.

Belle eyed Rumple as they were taken across the dance floor to the table directly opposite the piano’s platform. He had reserved an entire ballroom for their use alone. Stunned, she took in the expanse of the place a second time before turning her eyes to meet his. “Rumple, this… it’s beautiful.”

He smiled and held her chair, helping her to sit before taking his own place, the light from the golden candles flickering in the amber of his eyes. “Happy anniversary,” he said at last as he reached for her hand.

Tenderly Belle put her hand in his and felt the warmth of his heart bring her to life.

* * *

Lexington landed on the balcony with a quiet scratch of claws, immediately ducking into the shadows. Gideon quickly released his grip from the Gargoyle’s neck and hurried to another of the larger walls, camera bag clenched tightly in his hands.

“Wow,” Lexington whispered harshly across the distance. “I had no idea it was such a beautiful place.” He was peering in, eyes darting from one part of the room to the next and Gideon watched the Gargoyle’s amazement as he removed the camera and settled it into his hands.

“You said you knew it,” Gideon reminded him before turning his attention to the room through the glass, eyes roaming over the empty tables as they tried to locate his parents.

“Well, yeah,” the Gargoyle admitted. “But it’s usually full of people. I haven’t ever seen it like this.”

Gideon watched a man playing at the piano, his fingers dancing over the keys. The movement was beautiful and delicate and reminded him of the way his father would sometimes play his fingers along his mother’s arm. He felt his chest rise and fall with a heavy breath and forced himself to turn away, wondering if the symbolism was one of the reasons live music was so appealing to his father.

“There,” Lexington spotted them first, pointing a talon so close to a part of the glass that he nearly tapped it. “That table on the other side.”

Aiming the camera in the direction his friend had indicated, Gideon peered through the view finder and fiddled with the zoom until he had exactly the right framing before pressing the button that would capture their shared meal. His mother and father were sitting at a table covered in blue cloth, food cooling in front of them as they shared smoldering expressions, completely lost in their feelings. Light from the candles in the centerpiece glistened in their eyes, flickering like the sparks of the love that he knew they held for each other. They were the warmest, most wonderful treasures in the world, he thought as he snapped another picture the moment their hands brushed against each other.

He watched as the two of them ate staring through the glass as if he were studying a famous work of art and taking note of each brush stroke or chisel mark. When they laughed they were light, when they were silent they held such focus on each other that even Gideon could see they had forgotten everything in the world around them.

After a while, he felt warmth at his side and snapped out of his daze to turn to Lexington. The Gargoyle gave him a toothy smile. “They really do love each other,” he said in a hushed tone.

“Yeah,” Gideon agreed, taking another moment to study the pianist and watch the man’s hands flit over the keys, spreading and contracting as they moved in fluid ripples. “They’ll be dancing soon. I want to stay for that. Then we can go.”

“Okay. How do you know?” Lexington tipped his head sideways.

Gideon shrugged. “My father _loves_ dancing and my mother does too.” He nodded at the tuxedoed man at the piano. “It’s why he paid for music and rented a ball room. And actually… I think he did a fairly good job of duplicating their first dance together after their wedding. Not that I was there, but.. I’ve heard mother describe it. She said they were in a big house, in a room with a wooden floor and a crystal chandelier above them. That room had books, though.” He shrugged again, deciding that maybe it wasn’t what his father had aimed for after all.

“I’m glad I got to come with you,” Lexington sighed. “Gargoyles from my clan never knew their parents. We were raised by everyone. It’s nice to see you with yours.”

“Nothing wrong with the way the clan lived.” Gideon glanced at his parents again, trying to judge the length of their meal against his wanting to chat with Lex. It looked like they had just started the main course, so he decided to sit against the wall for a while. He moved from the window and plopped himself down against one of the building’s stone walls, then turned to his friend. “Must be nice to have everyone be family. I mean I guess mine is almost like that, but… it’s complicated. Yours always sounded so much simpler.”

“It is, but sometimes I wish I knew who my parents were the way Angela does, the way some from other clans know.” Lexington squatted beside him in his usual animistic pose. Gideon hadn’t ever really thought about it before, but realized now just how the construction of the Gargoyle’s wings might make certain stances more difficult. He studied where membrane met flesh, then looked down to his camera, needing something else to put his focus on as Lexington spoke. “Brooklyn’s children will always know who their parents are and I expect, when they’re old enough, they will claim their eggs as their own, too.”

Gideon quirked his mouth in what he hoped was an expression of thought. “Is it just because of your lower numbers that things are changing?”

“Partly.” There was more to Lexington’s answer, but he didn’t offer it and Gideon didn’t push to know it.

“What about you? Are you going to have eggs some day?” He looked up from the camera and met Lex’s eyes, which held something in them that he couldn’t quite define. “You could tell them, couldn’t you?”

The strange expression grew to encompass the whole of the Gargoyle’s face, something that combined longing and sadness with what might have been uncertainty. “No,” Lexngton said frankly. “I won’t have eggs of my own. Some of us don’t and that’s okay.”

“I don’t understand.” Gideon knew it wasn’t proper to press the issue, but now that he was faced with an aspect of his friend’s life that he was unaware of he wanted to know more, wanted to help and support him. “Is it because you’re like my mother? She can’t have any more after what happened when she was pregnant with me. I will always be her only child.”

Lexington shook his head. “No. Nothing like that.”

“Well?” Gideon turned where he sat so that he could better face Lexington. “If something isn’t stopping your body, you still _might_ have eggs some day.”

“I don’t think your parents want me talking about Gargoyle mating practices,” Lexington chuckled.

“Why not? I know enough about _their_ mating practices,” Gideon huffed back. “Come on, Lex. It’s not something horrible, is it? You can tell me.”

His friend gave him a warm smile. “Nothing horrible,” he said, eyes gentle and round. “I promise.”

Behind the Gargoyle’s olive colored wing tip, Gideon noticed movement and scrambled to his feet. “This is it,” he said, their conversation forgotten. “Just a few pictures of them dancing and we can go.”

* * *

There was no blue like the color of Belle’s eyes. It could be enhanced by her clothing or the world around her, it could be accentuated by the flush in her cheeks, it could be hidden behind narrowed slits that came with a knowing smile, but it could never, ever be duplicated. He had heard people compare blue eyes to the sea or the sky, heard them spoken of as crystals or endless pools, but none of those descriptions fit Belle. Her eyes held a magic all of their own, one that was possible to lose himself in forever and somehow survive on nothing but the love he held in his heart.

Her voice was like a melody, accent something he would think of as a treasure until the last moment he heard it. The quiet way her “r”s drifted on the air, the vowels that didn’t quite fit with what others were used to, the way it somehow perfectly wormed its way into her every breath, amazed him. He heard her accent everywhere, even where it shouldn’t belong, like in a giggle or a moan and it was beauty on the wind, so stunning that his heart leapt in his chest every time she simply parted her lips.

“Rumple?”

He blinked, head jerking slightly to shake him from his study of her. “Sorry?”

Belle gestured at the waiter who seemed to have come out of nowhere. “Did you want to order dessert?”

Nodding his thanks, Rumple reached up for a menu. He felt the flush in his cheeks and the pull of a bashful smile on his lips, but didn’t hide either from the man or his wife, whose gorgeous eyes were keenly studying him.

“Any idea what you’d like to have?” He glanced up at her before forcing himself to look down to the list of items before him.

“I think I’d like some tea,” she told him. “And the cheesecake.”

He nodded, accepting her choice and taking it as his own because he didn’t want to waste a single moment looking at a list of random treats when the only real treat was there in front of him. “Sounds lovely. I think I’ll do the same.” 

Setting their menus down at the edge of the table brought their hands together, a gentle brush of finger to finger that distracted him further. His touch lingered on her skin and his thumb began making a lazy motion, caressing up and then down to the table before lifting up again. Their hands crawled toward each other like insects, moving hesitantly with minds of their own until they were joined.

All the while his eyes were lost in hers. He simply could not escape them. “You are so very beautiful,” Rumple whispered. “I don’t think there is any way I could explain how fully I hold you in my heart. You are the light that kept the single spark alive in an ocean of darkness.”

“Rumple…” Belle glanced down at where their hands met and gave his a squeeze before looking up at him. “The past is long behind us now.”

“But it hasn’t changed,” he told her. “Now, I know that it isn’t something we talk about, but I couldn’t let tonight go by without telling you, promising you that the man I was when we married is never a man that I could be again. That man disappeared the moment our son was returned to us.”

The corner of Belle’s lips turned upward. It was a quiet gesture, if gestures could be described as such. “I know,” she assured him. “I never doubted it and I never will.”

Finally the piece of music the pianist was playing ended, changing from random traditional melodies to something all to familiar, yet subtly different. He watched Belle’s eyes glaze over and picked out the moment she realized the piece of music was their own. Once they filled with recognition, he stood and offered her his hand. “May I have this dance?”

Belle’s face flushed and brightened all at once as she lifted her napkin to the table and took is hand. “Always,” she whispered as he helped her to her feet.

They moved to the center of the wooden dance floor, drifting easily from regular step into the flowing motions of dance. Rumple guided them along, feeling the melody fill him to the very depths of his being. He envisioned memories of their first dance together, of the days they held each other in the back of the shop while music played to ease Gideon off into the realm of dreams, and relived every musical moment in between.

“I should have expected you would arrange this too,” Belle murmured, her body so close that their noses almost touched.

“I might have insisted on a specific piece being played before our final course arrived,” Rumple admitted.

Belle tipped her head at him. “That’s why you brought all of that up. To prepare me.” The statement held a hint of question.

“Not exactly,” Rumple told her as they drifted under the crystalline chandelier. “Though perhaps I did worry that it might bring up some unhappy memories.”

“I told you before, you don’t have to reassure me,” Belle told him as she leaned closer, cheek pressed to his so that her words caressed his ear when she spoke. “I love you, Rumplestiltskin. I have since our time in the castle. No matter what has tested us, that will always be true.”

Rumple closed his eyes against the words, wishing he could pull them in to his heart and trap them there forever.

Around them their song drifted through the room, dancing from the keys and into the air, melodic and changed, but still familiar and perfect. The music wasn’t only theirs, it _was_ them, he realized as they moved. Like the melody, they were changed but better for it, made more beautiful by the alteration of time. In that moment their story seemed older than the world itself and he felt it stretch into the future, to a distance that he believed they would never reach. He more certain than ever that he would have her forever, just as she would have him.

“Tale as old as time…” He almost hummed the words without realizing it.

Belle’s head pulled away just enough to give him a curious gaze. “What did you say?”

They both knew he hadn’t said it, just as they both knew that her question wasn’t a question at all. She was playing with him, luring him into a realm he was generally insecure about traveling to, but tonight there would be no insecurities. He wouldn’t allow it.

Rumple’s arm tightened around Belle’s, drawing her even closer to his own body as they moved. The music continued until the familiar refrain, when the hum of his words mingled with the notes. “Tale as old as time,” he sang, mouth hardly moving, the lyrics for her ear alone. “Song as old as rhyme… Beauty-”

“And my beast…” Belle finished the words, her voice hardly a whisper, her eyes locked with his. They burned with a fire that conveyed her every need for him, mingled with all of her love, and he knew the exact meaning of her words. She sang not of a monster, but of their evening to come and he felt a twinge of passion pulse through him.

When their lips met there was no flash or pulse of light, but Rumple felt his hair brush at the collar of his suit just as if the they had stepped into a sudden rush of air. Belle’s own locks drifted in a similar breeze and in that moment they both glanced up, instinctively searching for the vent that pushed air down upon them. They found nothing. Only the chandelier and perfect, white ceiling circled in powder blue light hovered over their heads.

“I love you,” Belle whispered when their eyes met again.

Heart pounding in his chest, Rumple smiled to try and hide unshed tears of joy. “And I love you,” he answered as their foreheads touched.


End file.
